First Principles: Samair in Argos: Book 3

by KOTCHER, MICHAEL

  They turned to look. “What kind of ship?” Vincent asked, peering at the image.

  She shrugged. “It’s a cargo ship of some kind, but from this angle that’s all I can really get from it. It’s a bad angle and it’s covered by that door and the size of the opening that we’ve got here.” The shot was very small. As the AI had mentioned, they could only see a small portion of the ship, enough to determine what it was, but not enough to actually get much in the way of details. “But the interesting part isn’t so much the ship, although that is important, it’s that the ship is located here.” An overhead map of the city appeared with a bracket around the hangar/warehouse where the ship was located and only a two blocks away was another bracket, showing where the fuel had been delivered by the wayward truck. “Interesting coincidence that the ship is not that far from where they were bringing the fuel.”

  George frowned. “All right, so I can understand the locals wanting to sell some of the fuel loads we’ve been selling them.” The He3 fuel they’d been selling both to the people here in Heb and back in Seylonique, as well as what was flowing in the fuel bunkers on all the FP ships was incredibly pure. It was why the company was able to fetch such a high price back in Seylonique. “They’d be able to turn a good profit, but selling a third of their total fuel load? That’s way too much. If that’s what they did with the last load, it’s no wonder they’re nearly tapped out.”

  “But what about the fuel collector?” Vincent asked. “Even if they did sell off a large fraction of the reserve, they should have been able to supplement it from there.”

  “No idea, Captain,” George replied, shrugging.

  Vincent mused on that for a moment. Then he pressed a control. “Bridge, this is the Captain.”

  “What do you need, Captain?” Serinda asked.

  “Open a channel to Mondragon.”

  “One moment, Captain.”

  “Captain Eamonn,” Leicasitaj answered, a few seconds later, his image appearing on the large monitors. “How can I help you?”

  “Captain Leicasitaj, I know you were launching sensor probes all over the system earlier,” Vincent said, feeling irritation rising as he thought about it again. He quickly tamped it down. “How many was it, six? Seven?”

  “An even ten, Captain,” the Romigani answered with a watery chuckle. “And I’m not apologizing for it. We’re getting a lot of good data.”

  “Good. What can you tell me about the fuel collector we put in the atmosphere of the gas giant? Is it still functional?”

  Some of Leicasitaj’s facial tentacles curled as he checked one of his off-camera displays. “Yes, Captain it is. In fact, the fuel bladders are full. It needs to be emptied.”

  Vincent nodded slowly, his eyebrows in danger of touching he was frowning so hard. “Thank you, Captain. I’ve got my engineer sending a shuttle out there to collect it. But this now makes even less sense than before. They have shuttles; they should have been able to get to it. Is there something broken?” He put a hand to his forehead in consternation. “This doesn’t make sense!” he repeated.

  “I’ll see what I can find out, Captain,” Stella replied, her voice slightly softer than normal, as if she didn’t want to upset the man further.

  He sighed heavily, closing his eyes and drawing his strength back in. “I know you will, Stella. Captain,” he said, turning back to Leicasitaj. “Keep up with your scans and your system-wide survey. Would you please let me know if you find anything?”

  The Romigani considered his words for a long moment. “Yes, of course, Captain. I will.” Then he ended the call. His image vanished from the monitors.

  “What was with that hesitation?” George asked, puzzled and looking a bit hurt.

  “I think he was wondering if he should agree to my request, since he’s the commander of the security detachment for this trip and I’m just a lowly freighter captain.”

  George started. “But you’re his boss! The owner of the company.”

  Vincent snorted. “But I’m also in the way. He wants to be able to operate freely and he thinks he might not be able to do his job properly if I’m joggling his elbow.”

  “Joggling… Captain, he works for you!” George looked outraged.

  Eamonn nodded. “Yes, he does. But I hired him to do a job.” He grunted. “And now it seems I need to sit back and let him do it. He’s right, I can’t be getting in his way, interjecting my opinions, despite my title. He and Leader Stenlake need to work together to keep us safe, while I…” he trailed off.

  “You, Captain?” Stella asked gently.

  He growled, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I… have to work on my own problems. I have to work on getting this round of trades finished, then we head on back to Seylonique.”

  “Back home,” George replied, scratching his ear.

  Vincent nodded. “Yeah. Back home.” He nodded to George, who grabbed up his datapad and walked out of the wardroom. Stella watched him go, but then at turning back and seeing the expression on the captain’s face: pensive, moody, she blinked her eyes once and vanished.

  He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting there, staring at the tabletop. What the hell is going on with these people? They start selling off fuel reserves to the point where they’re sucking their tanks dry by the time we get here with the next shipment. They ignore the fuel collector, even when it’s filled to capacity and could keep them going. And then the governor gets squirrely when I ask him about it. Perhaps I should ask him again.

  He pressed a control. “Serinda, get me the Governor’s office, please.”

  Jodelle Sandusky, communications technician for Governor Vall’s office, blanched as the comm system lit up. There was an incoming transmission from that big freighter. It seemed that Captain Eamonn wanted to talk again. She turned to her boss, who was slumped on the couch across the room, laying his head back, a glass of some sort of amber liquid in one hand. She wasn’t even sure he was awake.

  “Sir? I have an incoming call from the freighter,” she said hesitantly.

  His head whipped up, a panicked look on his face. “Fletcher’s Dolly?” he demanded. Such a strange name for something so menacing. “Is it them?” He was starting to hyperventilate.

  Jodelle shook her head vigorously. “Oh, no, sir. Sorry. Grania Estelle, up in orbit.”

  He put a hand to his chest, trying to remember how to breathe. After a moment of little gasps, he raised a shaking hand with the glass to his face and threw back the rest of the drink. He set the glass down on the seat next to him, his hand slightly steadier. “What do they want?” Vall managed to croak.

  Jodelle shook her head. “Their hail only said that Captain Eamonn wanted to talk with you, sir.”

  Vall let out a trembling breath. Things had been going so well for so long. There hadn’t been any sign of warlords or pirates in Heb in years. In that time, Vall and the other governors (three others in total, one from the cities of Balambourgh, Shalatzi and Safe Landing) had managed to put a productive society together. It wasn’t as high tech as some of the other civilizations in other star systems, but they were building. And with the arrival of the traders on their interstellar ship, they’d been making good headway into constructing bigger, better and safer. They were all cleaning up the radiation, treating the sick, even working on improving basic infrastructure.

  And now this. They were still able to build and thrive, but now there was this new threat. This was intolerable. He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. I’ll take it.” He hauled himself off the couch and padded over to the comm unit. He shooed her out of the chair and she gratefully scampered away. He plopped down in the operator’s chair, took a moment to try and compose himself, gave it up as a bad job and hit the “Connect” button. “Captain, it’s good to hear from you again. I saw that the fuel loads were delivered. I must say it’s a great relief to see it being pumped into the bunkers at the power plant.”

  “I bet,” Vincent Eamonn replied. “I’m glad that we were able to get h
ere in time before your fuel bunkers ran dry.” The man frowned and Acheron felt his stomach drop. “But I do have a couple of questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

  Acheron sighed heavily, knowing exactly where this was going. “Actually, Captain…”

  But Vincent interrupted. “Like I said, Governor, I am very happy that I was able to get my ship back here with the fuel you needed. The last thing I would want to happen is for your city not to get the fuel it was so desperately needing. But I was wondering about the fuel collector. It’s full.”

  Acheron set his jaw. “It is?” he asked, trying to sound surprised.

  “Yes,” Vincent said, staring at him intently. “And I just have to wonder, Governor, why wouldn’t you send shuttles up to the collector and get the fuel that’s waiting there? With three shuttles running that would keep you going for another three and a half months at current consumption levels.”

  “Oh, would it?” he asked, knowing that Eamonn wasn’t buying it. He nodded, as though considering options. “That sounds like something we should-…”

  “Governor, please. I know something is going on. Something bad. If you tell me, maybe I can help.” The man seemed so… sincere.

  Acheron wanted to believe him. He did. He truly did. In fact, if it wasn’t for Eamonn and his ship and his engineers, Vanoria wouldn’t be as on the rise as it was. So many people would have succumbed to cancers and other radiation-related sicknesses without him. The city would be back in the candles and torchlight level of civilization without Eamonn and his He3 power plants. His people had been a godsend, but the man was pushing himself into things that didn’t concern him, shouldn’t concern him.

  “I don’t think that you can, Captain,” Acheron said, his voice heavy. “This is not something that you can help with. This is just the situation here on the ground at Vanoria and I’ll thank you to keep out of it.”

  “Where are your shuttles, Governor? I should be able to track them, they have locator beacons that my sensors and com-techs can ping, but I’m not able to. So that means that you’ve either disassembled them, you’ve destroyed them or they’ve been taken off planet or otherwise shielded. And I have to ask you, why wouldn’t you want me to know about this? You bought those shuttles from me and the last time we spoke you were over the moon about them. You loved those little ships and were working with your government to see if there was some way to work the budget to get another one. Now all of a sudden you’re freezing me out?”

  “What do you want from me?” Acheron snapped, finally breaking. “Yes, I love those little ships, and I appreciate the tech and the equipment and the medicine you’ve brought here has been nothing less than spectacular, miraculous even. But… Things are not the same as they were even a few months ago. There are some developments…” He cleared his throat, composing himself. “At this time, Captain, all I can say is that there are things going on in my government that I cannot talk about. I appreciate your concern, but for now we just need you to continue with as you are. If you can keep the fuel flowing, we should continue having a happy and profitable business relationship.”

  Vincent eyed him thoughtfully, a slight frown on his face. “But about the shuttles and the fuel collector?”

  “I will speak with my tech people, Captain,” Acheron assured him. “I don’t want to get into the situation that we were in before. But I will look into purchasing a new shuttle on your next visit, Captain. I am still seeing if I can push it through on the budget.”

  Vincent nodded. “I understand, Governor.” He hesitated, as though he wanted to say something more, but thought better of it. “I’ll look forward to your call. My ship will be in orbit for another three days, then we will be departing. Feel free to contact me at any time.”

  “I will remember that, Captain Eamonn.” He nodded to the captain and then cut the connection. Once the call ended, the governor visibly slumped. He lurched to his feet and made his way over to the small liquor cabinet. He had another call to make.

  Leader Mogrin was seated in his small cabin aboard Sessilan. He enjoyed the small perks of his job, and getting even a modicum of privacy was something that the commander of a ship like this should be able to expect. Lord Verrikoth gave his ship commanders a lot of leeway in what they did aboard those ships; so long as his directives were carried out, they were given free reign. Aboard Kerala (before its destruction) there were a number of slaves, to use and abuse by the crew. Some of the stories that came from that ship had made even Mogrin’s skin crawl. Of course, that ship was gone now, destroyed, though a handful of the crew managed to get into escape pods.

  Mogrin would have allowed a few… distractions aboard his ship, in fact, he wouldn’t have minded having one or two for himself, but there simply wasn’t room aboard the very cramped corvette. He could have one or two for himself, but there wouldn’t be enough for the crew and Mogrin wanted to keep their morale up. Better that there be no pleasure slaves and some grumbling than only one or two and a possible mutiny.

  Upon the flotilla’s departure from Byra-Kae, Verrikoth had taken stock of his forces and decided that his forces might be better served spread out. The Republic base had been crushed, their ships would flee to back to their own space and he would be free to pursue his own interests here. And while he did desire to rule these stars, he knew that would require resources and above all, fear. Simple raiding served its purpose and increased his coffers, yes, but better if the citizens of the Argos Cluster accepted his rule and paid him for the privilege.

  Mogrin’s initial orders upon being sent here to Heb were to make the locals see that it would be best if they served their new lord willingly. So he brought his two ships, Sessilan and Toroj to the system and firebombed a few small, worthless islands. Once the reports of the damage had been received in the four cities, he began requesting tribute, starting with the largest and most modern of the four, Vanoria. They had a trio of very nice cargo shuttles that his lord would appreciate, as well as a large load of highly refined helium 3 fuel. Both of these things were highly prized and would please his lord.

  But now the arrival of trade ships and their military escort bothered Mogrin. Where were they coming from? Their vector indicated that they were coming from Seylonique, but that was impossible. No one had flown out of that star system in decades and certainly nothing in as good repair. Hell, the smaller cargo ship and the warship looked to be brand new! And now they had a fighter escort and altogether, it was unlikely that Mogrin could beat them with the two ships he had with him. So he continued to hide his ships behind planetary bodies, keeping away from their annoying sensor probes.

  And now that cowardly worm Vall was contacting him again. They already made the payment for Lord Verrikoth’s protection. Did they want to pay more? I’m up for that. He pressed the key to activate comms. “This is Leader Mogrin. You got some serious guts calling me. I thought we had an arrangement. You don’t call me, I send someone to talk to you.”

  The man visibly paled, but it was clear that he was steeling himself. “I need to talk with you about the shuttles.”

  Mogrin’s somewhat playful mood faded. Those three shuttles were currently locked onto Sessilan’s hull, ready to be transported to Tyseus for Lord Verrikoth. “What about my shuttles? Or I should say, Lord Verrikoth’s shuttles?”

  Acheron straightened his spine. “I need to request that you leave one here. Now, before you get upset,” he said, raising his hands, “The reason I’m requesting this is because there’s a fuel collector in atmosphere of the gas giant.”

  “And?” he asked, leaning to the side on one elbow. Fletcher’s Dolly was already loaded up with as much fuel as she could carry, so the fact that there was a collector here wasn’t really something that he was all that interested in.

  “And,” the governor said, swallowing hard, “if I have one of the shuttles here, I can collect fuel from there, and have more for payment when you come back. It also allows me to have more in reserve so that I don’t have to
worry about blackouts.” He seemed to be gathering his inner strength. “If the power goes out, then so do the industries we have here, and then the money stops. We won’t be able to make our next payment.”

  Mogrin started to smile viciously, but Acheron cut him off. “If we can’t pay, they you start shooting, or you kill me and install someone you think might be more pliable. But that doesn’t change the fact that we can’t pay. So all you end up doing is firebombing this world, killing a bunch of people but you lose out on all the potential profits you could get from us.”

  The pirate leader considered that. Finally he nodded. “Fine. One shuttle. Once the tradeships depart, I will bring it back.”

  Acheron nodded. “Understood. And I ask that you not hurt them, either. They’re the ones who bring us almost all of the fuel as well as other items for trade. We need their business, and by extension, so do you.”

  Mogrin scowled. “Don’t think that you can dictate terms to me, Governor. Or you will rapidly find yourself unemployed and buried. And I will be working with your replacement.” He glared at the screen, seeing that little worm try to wiggle away. “Don’t call me again. I will make sure you will regret it.” And he cut the connection. He sighed to the empty room. “I must be getting soft.”